


You Struck Me By Surprise

by Annabeth_Crestfallen_LeMorte



Series: Of Loving Bondage [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Dom Stiles, M/M, Mentions of Prior Bad BDSM Etiquette, Sub Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:36:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1510652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annabeth_Crestfallen_LeMorte/pseuds/Annabeth_Crestfallen_LeMorte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've had the idea for this fic since I posted the first part of the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/61310">Of Loving Bondage</a> series, but wrote and posted other parts before it.  I only recently had the time to sit down and write it up.  It takes place a few weeks after the events of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1015944">Suspension of Trust</a>.</p><p>There is no actual BDSM action in this; it's basically just a meet-cute fic that gives a tiny look into the lives of <em>both</em> Derek & Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Struck Me By Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, they remain the property of their respective owners. I'm just borrowing them to play for a little bit. All the stories are done for fun, not profit.
> 
>  
> 
> This fic does not _actually_ contain a BDSM scene, but it does include vague mentions of some prior unsafe BDSM practices. On the flip side, there is also a discussion between two established _and_ responsible members of the Of Loving Bondage 'Verse's BDSM community.
> 
> Please note that in this fic I've mentioned a _very_ important part of the BDSM lifestyle: meeting to determine compatibility prior to _any_ BDSM play. If enough interest is generated, there's a possibility that I'd be willing to write a fic surrounding that particular meeting.
> 
> As always, please don't use this fic as a guideline for your own life. Do your research and remember the most important part of BDSM is ensuring "safe, sane and consensual" play.

Stiles stares down at his cellphone, face tight. He’s waiting for Lydia’s response to his text.  Within seconds the phone vibrates in his hand.  Stiles scrolls to his alerts and pulls up Lydia’s reply.

**_Message From: Lydia                        Received: 0838_ **

**_I’m at the tea stand. Where are you?_ **

Stiles huffs and looks around, muttering in frustration, “I’m _at_ the flipping tea stand, Lydia!” 

“Sir?  This isn’t the only one.”

Stiles looks around.

A young woman, not much older than her late teens, is pointing, “There’s a small tea shop near the food area. If you go down this aisle, there’s an open area with a bunch of picnic tables.  The teashop has little bistro tables set up out front. It’s like a mini coffee bar, but with tea.”  She smiles at Stiles, “We just sell the tea leaves and tea blends.  They actually have brewed tea for sale.  If your friend’s not here, then that’s probably where she is.”

“Oh,” Stiles gives her a smile, “thanks!” He takes one of the business cards from the table and heads in the direction she pointed.  Within seconds he sees Lydia.

“Stiles!”  Lydia is waving him over, her red hair plaited into Heidi braids and tucked under a knit hat.  She smiles at him, holding a cup out towards him as he comes closer, “I got you a plain Earl Grey tea, no cream or sugar.”

Stiles takes the paper cup, “Thank you, Lydia.”

“You’re welcome.”  Lydia smiles up at him, “Did you have trouble finding me?”

“I was standing next to a tea booth in the actual market when you texted me.  Didn’t realize you meant the little food court area.”  He cups the back of Lydia’s head when her mouth drops open in surprise. “It’s okay.  Don’t worry about it.  I found you easy enough once someone helped me realize my error.”

Lydia takes a sip of her tea and looks around. One of hands comes up to tug on her knit hat, “You want to go look around?  The guy I’m buying the tables from won’t be here for another twenty minutes.”

Stiles swallows his mouthful of tea and nods, “Sure. I’ve never been to a combination flea-slash-farmer’s market.”  He gestures back the way he came, “Lead the way, Ms. Martin.”

“Okay, so, I’ve been wanting to come to this one for a while, but hadn’t been able to because Duke had me on morning telephone duty so yeah, my first weekend off and I thought I’d drag you with me. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Nope, it’s fine.  Like I said, I’ve never been to this place. I’ve been to a farmer’s market, but not like this.  It’s different. What made you want to come here?”

“Well the guy I’m buying the end tables from? He doesn’t have an actual store and wanted to meet me in a parking lot.  I told him, ‘Sorry, I don’t meet random dudes from the internet in dark Walmart parking lots,’ so he suggested we meet here.  It’s daylight, crowded,” Lydia smiles up at him, “and I brought a gentleman to protect me.”

Stiles laughs, “I see how it is.” He leans to whisper in Lydia’s ear, “You won’t scene with me, but you’ll use me as a bodyguard.”

Lydia’s face morphs into one of abject innocence, “Would you rather I came alone?  Maybe I should have asked Boyd?”  She purses her lips in a cute little pout, “Or Ennis, maybe?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  I don’t particularly mind spending my Saturday with you, even if I am going to be doing all the heavy lifting.”  Stiles stops at one of the booths, picking up a persimmon and bringing it up to his nose.  He waits for the booth tender to look over and asks, “How much?” 

“A dollar each, Sir.”

Stiles pulls two bills out of his jacket pocket and hands them to the woman, “Two please.”  He takes the small paper bag she hands him and selects his fruit before wandering over to where Lydia is speaking to an older gentleman in a thick knit cardigan.  As he steps closer, he hears Lydia gushing over just how soft the scarves are.

“You made it?  Oh my goodness, it’s like petting a baby bunny.”  She smiles and brings one of the scarves up to her cheek, “Stiles, feel!”  Lydia holds the deep purple one up to his face and smiles when Stiles leans down, allowing her to rub it over his cheek, “I’m getting two.”  She turns to the man, “I’ll take the purple one and one of those dark red ones.” Lydia points to the shelf, nodding when the man holds up a red scarf.  She turns to look over her shoulder, “For Allison.  What do you think?”

Stiles nods, “She’ll love it.” He laughs when Lydia drapes a copper scarf around his neck, “I don’t do scarves, Lyds, but thank you.”

Lydia smirks and puts the scarf back on the table, muttering under her breath, “You don’t do scarves, _my ass_.”  She pays the man, taking her bag and change before hooking her arm with Stiles’.

They walk arm in arm for a few minutes, pausing when something catches their attention.  Stiles ends up buying a carved wooden pen for his father and tooled-leather belt for himself.  He’s takes Lydia’s bags while she taps out a message to the guy she’s there to meet and wanders over to a booth selling handmade soaps and lotions.

“Good morning.”

Stiles smiles at the booth owner, “Morning!” He picks up a bar of soap and laughs after reading the label, “Monty Python themed names?”

The woman grins, “Not a lot of people get the joke.”

“Pity.”  Stiles chuckles at the ‘It’s Just Flesh Wound’ antibiotic cream, “How can someone not know?”  He picks up a purple swirled soap and lifts it up to his nose, “Oh, I like this.  How much?”

“Soaps are three dollars each or four for ten. Lotions are five dollars for the small bottle and twelve for the larger one.  The little tins are six dollars.”

“Hmm,” Stiles looks up when Lydia peeks over his arm. He holds the soap out so she can smell it, “You like?”

Lydia wrinkles her nose and shrugs, “It’s okay.” She picks up a pale green soap and sniffs at it delicately, “Oh!  This one’s nice.  Smell.”

Stiles leans closer to the bar of soap and nods, “Mmm minty.” He takes the bar from Lydia and she wanders away distractedly.  Stiles brings the bar up to his nose again and tilts his head, “There’s something else though.”

The woman smiles, “Rosemary.” She turns when a younger woman walks over to hand her a small notepad, smiling at Stiles before excusing herself politely.

Stiles watches her pull a cellphone from her jacket pocket.

She looks between the notepad and her phone, tapping the screen with her thumb.  After a few seconds, she swipes the customer’s credit card and hands the phone over to the younger woman.  She points to the screen and gently reminds, _“Have her sign and then put her phone number in if she wants a text receipt, okay?”_

The younger woman nods and moves back towards her waiting customer.

“Trainee?”

The woman laughs, “Younger sister.” She shrugs, “It’s her first time helping out on a Saturday.  Cora usually helps out in the store.  She may know how to run the register in the store and is fine handling online sales, but using the credit card reader app makes her a little bit nervous.  Not sure why.  I’m Laura, by the way.”  The woman, Laura, holds out her hand.

Stiles shakes her hand, “Stiles.”

Laura cocks her head, “That’s an unusual name.”

“Mmm yeah,” Stiles nods, “it’s a nickname actually. My real name is a travesty.” He leans in to whisper conspiratorially, “I don’t share that with anyone.”

“I see.”  Laura chuckles, “My brother’s middle name is somewhat of an embarrassment. All of our middle names are actually.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust.

Stiles picks up a tin of the antibiotic cream, two of the rosemary mint soaps and two of the elderberry wine soaps. He reaches across the table to hand his selections to Laura.  Stiles waits while she writes up his sales slip and starts to bag his purchases. He smiles at her when she looks over to check on her sister’s progress in ringing up another customer.

Laura’s expression changes and she ducks to look in one of the boxes under the table, “I have something else in that rosemary mint scent you might like.  It’s not in its fancy packaging because I didn’t get to finish labeling the bottles last night.” She sits back on her heels and frowns, “I could have sworn I brought them with me.”

Stiles is about to ask just what she was going to show him when he hears a vaguely familiar voice from behind him.

“I swear to God, Laura, this better be the last batch of boxes.  I’ve told you time and again that I’m not you personal pack mule.”

Sure enough, when Stiles turns around, standing there, in all his sweaty glory, is Derek.  Stiles glances at Laura out of the corner of his eye and gives her a smile, “And this must be your brother?  The one with the embarrassing middle name?”

Derek’s eyes widen when he catches sight of Stiles. His mouth drops open and he turns to glare at his sister, “You didn’t!”

Laura holds up her hands, “I told him nothing.”

Stiles grins, “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with her.”  He tilts his head and says gently, “Good morning, Derek.”

Laura looks between the two of them, eyebrows pressing together in confusion, “You two know each other?”

Derek clears his throat, “We’ve met.” He doesn’t meet Stiles’ gaze and slips into the booth.  Derek crouches to set the two boxes down and dusts his hands off on his jeans, “Is this the last of it?”

Laura nods, expression suspicious, “Yeah.” She pulls the lip of the one of the boxes open and brightens, “Oh!  Here they are!  Stiles, this is what I was telling you about.”  Laura pulls one of the unlabeled bottles out and holds it out towards him, “Rosemary mint shampoo.”  She smiles, “Derek loves that one.  He raids my workroom whenever I make a new batch.”

Stiles flips the top open and sniffs at the opening, “Really?”  He shuts the bottle and hands it back to Laura, “How much?” 

“Well, they’re supposed to be fifteen dollars, but since it’s not packaged properly, what do you say to,” Laura’s lips purse and she offers, “ten?”

Stiles nods, “Sold.”  He hands his credit card to Laura and turns to Derek, “So tell me, do you make it a habit to help out your sister or is this a one-off kind of thing?”

Laura chuckles, “Oh, he helps.” She wraps his bottle of shampoo in tissue paper and puts it into his bag, “He’s actually the one that cuts the bar soaps, then wraps them.  Don’t you, Derek?”

Derek’s jaw tightens and pointedly ignores them. He turns instead to answer another customer’s questions, making it a point to give Stiles his back when he does.

Stiles presses his lips together and takes the hint. He clears his throat and signs the small screen when Laura hands him the cellphone, typing in his cellphone number when it prompts him.  “That just texts me my receipt?” 

Laura nods.

“Cool.”  Stiles hands the cellphone back to Laura and smiles, “Now you have my number so you can text me super secret sales and discounts.”

Laura laughs, “There is that. I also put a few samples of our newest scent in there, for your girlfriend.”  Stiles doesn’t have a chance to correct her assumption before she’s tucking the phone into her pocket and handing Stiles his bag and credit card, “Here you go, all done.”

Stiles takes the bag and nods, “Thank you.” He graces Laura with a smile, “You have a nice day, Laura.”  Stiles makes his way around the table towards where Derek is helping another customer. He pauses briefly, “Nice seeing you again, Derek.”

Derek looks up as Stiles passes, but doesn’t say anything.

Stiles gives him a smile and a small wave, the smile faltering when Derek returns neither.  He blows out a breath and joins Lydia, smiling at her while she introduces him to a friend she ran into.  Stiles absentmindedly makes idle chitchat, all the while, completely mindful of the weight of Derek’s stare.  He looks down at his watch and gently reminds Lydia, “Weren’t you supposed to meet that guy right about now?”

Lydia looks down at his wrist and gasps, “Yes!” She excuses herself from her friend and grabs Stiles’ hand, “Come on, before he leaves!”

Stiles drags his feet intentionally and laughs when Lydia turns to look at him, a dark expression on her face. “Alright, I’m coming.” He points in the direction of the meeting spot, “Go.”  Stiles tosses a look over his shoulder, frowning when he doesn’t see Derek. Lydia calls over her shoulder and Stiles picks up the pace to join her, purposely putting Derek out of his mind.

After lunch with Lydia, Stiles spends the rest of his Saturday lounging around his apartment in an apathetic funk. He has no idea why he’s in a mood. Well, he knows why, but there isn’t anything he can do about it.  Stiles sighs, fingers drumming on the arm of his chair.  He’s turning a pale blue business card between the fingers of his left hand, eyes not really focused on it.

“You’re being ridiculous.  If Derek wanted to talk to you, he would have. He was probably worried that you would say something in front of his sister, that’s all.”  Stiles rolls his eyes and mutters, “You’re sitting at home on a Saturday night, talking to yourself.  Perfect.” Stiles looks down at the business card. There’s a website and what he assumes to be Laura’s phone number printed beneath a small logo. He sits forward and drops the card on the coffee table.  Stiles looks at the time, chewing on his lip briefly.  He wonders if it’s worth heading to _The Dragon’s Tail_ this late.  He sighs again, lips twisting in thought, “Oh, what the hell.”

Nearly forty minutes later, Stiles is walking up to the bar.  He lifts a hand in greeting to the bartender, Kali.  She gives him a smile and jerks her head towards one of the circular booths. Stiles turns to look in the direction she indicated. He catches sight of Deucalion in the VIP section.  Almost as if he sensed Stiles’ gaze, the club owner turns and motions for Stiles to join him. Stiles holds up two fingers to Kali, moving away from the bar when she nods.

“Well, well, well,” Deucalion smirks, “look who decided to grace us with his presence.  Where’ve you been, dear boy?”

Stiles shrugs, “Oh, you know me. Here, there, everywhere.” He smiles, “How’ve you been, Sir? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Deucalion returns his smile, “I’ve been well. Busy with new employee orientation.” There’s a pause, followed by a dramatic sigh, “Working mornings does not a friendly Duke make.” He smirks, “And yourself? How has my favorite protégé been?”

“I highly doubt I’m your favorite,” Stiles shakes his head with a laugh, “but I’ve been alright, thank you for asking.”

“You’d be surprised, dear boy.” Deucalion shrugs, lifting his glass to take a sip of his drink.  “It’s been a few weeks since we saw you last.  I was wondering if maybe you’d taken that lovely submissive ‘wolf under your care and that’s why we hadn’t seen you?”

Stiles turns to smile at the waitress that approaches their table.  He takes his drink from her and nods in thanks.  Stiles turns his attention to Deucalion, “I’m sorry, what now?” 

Duke gives him a look, “Oh, come now, Stiles.” He tuts softly, “You know exactly what I’m speaking of.  That beautiful boy that Silver left strung up.”  Deucalion makes a face upon mentioning Kate and looks out onto the club floor, “Boyd said that the two of you hit it off.”  He turns back to look at Stiles, “I can only assume he was correct, seeing as you made use of the room until nearly five in the morning.”

“I did.”  Stiles nods slowly, “Nothing happened, though, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He clears his throat, “I know better than to-“

“I know that, dear boy.”  Deucalion puts a hand on Stiles’ forearm, “I also know you. You have a soft spot for wounded playmates.”  He holds up a hand when Stiles would have interrupted, “I don’t mean it in a bad way, Stiles. I’m simply pointing out the fact that you have a knack for helping lost submissives find their place once more. Isn’t that what you helped Heather do?”

Stiles takes a deep swallow of his drink, enjoying the burn of the liquor down his throat.  He nods, “Yes.”  Stiles allows himself a self-deprecating laugh and shrugs, “I helped her realize that she _was_ worth something,” he dips his fingertip into his glass and prods at the ice within, “and then let her go.  That’s what I do, isn’t it? Heal the broken ones and set them free.”

Deucalion sighs, “Perhaps it’s time you took a fulltime submissive of your own?  That way you can focus your time and energy on that special someone.  It might be good for you.”

Stiles shakes his head, “Nah.” He swallows thickly, “I’m not a one submissive type of guy.  I wouldn’t know what to do with someone in a 24/7 Total Power Exchange. I’m not ready." 

“Don’t sell yourself short, dear boy. I’ve seen you mature over the past few years.  I’m sure if that’s what you wanted, you could make it work.”  Deucalion sits back, “But I’ll have you know, that wasn’t what I was hinting at.”

“Oh?”

Deucalion opens his mouth to answer, but stops, turning to look up towards the DJ booth instead.  He narrows his gaze and slides from his seat, “It seems I’m needed upstairs. Feel free to retain use of table, Stiles.  Kali will see to whatever you need.”  With that Deucalion disappears into the crowd, off to do whatever it is he does as owner.

Stiles spends the twenty minutes watching one of the scenes being broadcast over the large projection screen hanging over the main floor.  The music thrumming through the club is a perfect soundtrack to the scene playing out on the screen. Stiles takes another sip from his drink and very nearly chokes on the mouthful.  He sits forward.

There, kneeling on a floor pillow, at the edge of the exhibition ring, dressed all in black, is Derek.

Stiles is up and halfway across the room before he even realizes that he’s moved.  He makes his way to the main ring and goes to move closer when he feels a hand on his elbow.  Stiles looks up to see Ennis, one of the club’s Dungeon Masters.

Ennis shakes his head and holds a finger up. He then gestures to the edge of the ring where Derek is kneeling.

Stiles follows his gaze and swallows when he realizes just what Ennis is warning him of.  Sitting behind Derek is a woman wearing a beautiful masquerade mask, her hand down in front of her, fingertips just barely touching Derek’s shoulder. Stiles returns his gaze to Ennis and nods in understanding.

Ennis watches him for a little longer before removing his hand from Stiles’ elbow.

Stiles gives the Dungeon Master an embarrassed smile, one hand coming up to wipe at his mouth.  He blinks a few times, taking a few deep breaths to center himself. Stiles is nearly calm when he looks up to find Derek staring at him.

Derek looks over his shoulder and says something to the woman sitting behind him before returning his gaze to Stiles. The woman’s attention flicks towards Stiles, her eyes raking up and down over his body.  A tiny smile curls her lips and she leans to speak into Derek’s ear.  Derek’s head ducks and even with the distance separating them his blush is clearly evident.

Stiles looks away, unable to stop the bitter laugh that escapes him.  He takes a step back from the ring and turns to weave through the crowd as quickly as he can, mentally berating himself for even bothering to come to the club. Stiles is standing at the bar, fumbling with his wallet and trying to get his credit card out to pay for his drink when Kali covers his hands with one of her own.

She raises her voice to be heard over the music, “Go. This one’s on me.”

Stiles gives her a tight smile and a silent _thank you_ before shoving his wallet back into his slacks.  He makes it all the way outside and tosses his head back at the cool breeze that meets him.

Behind him, an all too familiar voice calls out, _“Stiles!”_

Stiles shoves both hands into his jacket pockets and chooses to ignore the sound of his name.  He makes his way towards the small parking garage at the end of the block.

_“Stiles! Will you wait a minute?”_

The desperation in Derek’s voice nearly makes Stiles stop, but he shakes his head and walks faster.  Rapid footsteps come closer, but Stiles manages to swipe his ticket through the reader and duck into the parking garage just before Derek can reach him.  He looks back to see Derek staring at him longingly through the glass panel in the door, face twisted in an expression of hurt.

Derek’s voice is muffled through the thick steel door, _“Will you talk to me, please?”_ He puts a hand up to the glass and pleads, _“I want to apologize for this morning.”_

Stiles shakes his head and turns away to head up the stairs.  He exits on the third level, keys to his car already in hand.  To say that he’s surprised when Derek steps out from between two parked vehicles is an understatement.  Stiles takes a step back, because even from this distance, he can tell that Derek’s eyes are glowing.

Derek holds a hand out, “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.” He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.  When Derek opens them again, they’re human once more.  “Just, hear me out.  Please?”

Stiles grits his teeth, waving a hand irritably, “Fine! Since you obviously aren’t going to leave it alone, go ahead and say what you’re gonna say, but make it quick, I don’t have all night.”

Derek flinches at Stiles’ tone and ducks his head, “I’m sorry.  I’ll be quick.” He risks a glance up and whispers, “I was a jerk to you this morning, I know that.  I was surprised when I saw you, and I know it’s not an excuse, but,” Derek’s expression tightens, face shutting down, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted for people to know that we knew each other. I was never allowed to acknowledge my dominant in public, only the club,” he licks his lips and takes a step closer, “but you said hello to me first and, and, and I dunno, I guess I just panicked. I’m sorry.  Will you please forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Derek.” Stiles blows out a breath, “You don’t owe me any kind of explanation.  We met,” he grimaces slightly, “under less than favorable circumstances, and it would be completely understandable if, after everything that happened that night, you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“But I do!”  Derek rushes forward, stopping himself when Stiles sidesteps to avoid him. “I,” his face twists in obvious distress, “you make me,” Derek’s bottom lip quivers, and he backs up, hands out to his sides.  “It doesn’t matter, I’m sorry I bothered you.  It,” he turns away, “won’t happen again.”

“Derek, wait!”  Stiles holds a hand out to stop him, surprised when Derek actually pauses to turn back around.  “I make you what?

Derek frowns in confusion.

“You said _‘you make me’_ but then stopped.  I want to know what you were going to say.”

Derek’s lips press together and he shuts his eyes. “I was going to say,” a tiny smile lifts the corner of his lips briefly, a blink-and-you-miss-it gesture, “you make me want to drop to my knees.”  Derek takes a shaky breath, “I feel the need to tilt my head back and offer you my throat.”  Tears escape from beneath Derek’s lashes to track down his cheeks.  “All I want to do is-“ A choked sob stops whatever else Derek would have said.

Stiles bridges the gap between then, hands coming up to grip Derek’s face.  He whispers softly, “Easy.”  Stiles carefully wipes Derek’s tears away, “shhhh, relax.”  It doesn’t take much for Stiles to slip into the role of protector. Not only that, but it’s far too easy to wrap Derek up in his arms and whisper nonsense into his ear, voice pitched to soothe.

Derek pulls away after a few minutes, shaky hands coming up to wipe at his face, “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”  He backs up a few steps, “I’m just going to go. Thank you.  For uh,” Derek licks his lips, “hearing me out. You didn’t have to, but you did and I’m thankful.”  He nods repeatedly, “More than you know.”  Derek ducks his head, carefully moving around Stiles and heading towards the stairwell.

Stiles watches him go, his brows furrowed in thought. He presses his lips together and tosses his head back, hoping against hope that he’s not doing something he’ll later regret.  “Derek!”

Derek freezes, but doesn’t turn around.

“If you’re serious,” Stiles takes a moment to gather his composure.  “If you really meant what you said,” he pauses briefly, “I’m willing to see if we’re compatible.”

Derek spins to stare at him.

Stiles holds up a hand, “I’m not promising anything, but I uh, I’d be interested in getting to know you.”  He smiles at Derek, “If you’d like.”

“Yes!”  Derek blushes, “I mean, that’s something I,” a nervous laugh escapes him, “I’d really like that, Sir.”

“Stiles.  My name is Stiles.”

“Right.  Stiles.”

Stiles reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out one of his business cards.  He turns it over and writes his cellphone number on the back of the card. Stiles holds the card out to Derek, “Feel free to call or text.  If I’m working, I might not get back to you right away, but I eventually have to come up for air.”  He tucks his pen back into his pocket and smiles.

Derek calls out after him, “I will!  I mean,” his face is twists in embarrassment, “I’ll call you.”  He looks down at Stiles’ business card, “Definitely.”

“Good night, Derek.”

“Good night, Stiles.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [tumblr](http://annabethlemorte.tumblr.com/). I promise I don't bite...much. *grins*
> 
> Please be warned: Blog is NSFW.


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